 But to the murderer, the glaring memory of living, red blood oozing its ghastly stain, dying eyes that hold a look of shock bewilderment, the grotesque sprawling of the body becomes a growing terror. The murderers do haunt their murderers, diabolically filling each moment, waking or sleeping with an ever-building distorted desire that mounts into an all-encompassing obsession. And so, this is our story, starring John Loder. It began when the red sun of autumn was purpling the hills with an eerie light, and a skein of swirling mist was weaving a silken web in the forest. A hunting party consisting of two men and a woman was returning homeward from a day of hunting. A hunting party that had set out that morning with the express desire to legally kill, a desire that oft times becomes an obsession. Come on, boy! He went ahead to see if he could locate that path that leads out of here. Lloyd, do you think we'll ever bag anything? Of course we just had her on a bad luck while last winter I... Hold on. What is it? They're ahead. Did you see those branches move? Where? Is your gun loaded, Christine? Yes. It's that shot we've been waiting for. Go ahead, you take first crack. I don't see it. Shh! The bush. That bush to the left of a big tree. Oh! Hurry up! Come on, Christine! Here we are. We came to inquire about it. I'm sorry. We're not interviewing reporters. This has all been a terrible shock to Mrs. Holliday and she's unable to see anyone. Wait a minute. I'm not a reporter. No? No! I'm answering the ad in the newspaper. In regard to your selling the house. Oh, well, come in. Thank you. We've been swamped with snoopers and reporters all week long. It's been rather difficult. I'm Dr. Foster, Mrs. Holliday's physician. Glad to know you, Dr. Foster. I'm Norman Marshall. Not Norman Marshall, the writer. I'm afraid so. Well, this is a pleasure, Mr. Marshall. I'm one of your most devoted readers. Well, thank you very much. Now, as to the estate. I believe I can tell you all you wish to know. That is scarcely much I need know. I've seen innumerable pictures of the Holliday House and the Sunday Routic Reviewer. Now, regarding price. The price is as advertised. And servants. Would they be available to a new owner? I'm sorry, no. You see, since Martin Holliday's death, I've had to discharge them. Mrs. Holliday is in a very delicate condition requiring absolute quiet. It was imperative that no one remain in the house who might disturb her in any way. Oh, breakdown? Something of the sort, yes. Oh, that's a shame. The entire affair has been quite tragic. But to get back, Mr. Marshall. Hmm? Oh, yes. Gosh. The library here, Dr. Foster. This was Mr. Holliday? Yes. It appears to have quite a number of rare works. This one here, for example. I don't believe I've seen this. I should prefer you not to handle the books, please, Mr. Marshall. Oh, I'm sorry. I think the library is not for sale. None of the furnishings. Perhaps have we discussed the satisfactory price in a few of these editions? I've just told you, Mr. Marshall, the furnishings are not for sale. And Mrs. Holliday's instructions. Did you call me, Lloyd? Christine, what are you doing here? You're not well enough to be up and around just yet. Don't you think you'd better go back to your room? No. No, it's a warm here. I wanted some fresh air. Who is this? This is Norman Marshall, Christine. How do you do, Mr. Marshall? I'm Mrs. Holliday. Very happy to know you, Mrs. Holliday. Mr. Marshall is considering buying the estate. Yes, seems to be an ideal place for a person in my line of work. Line of work? Mm-hmm. I'm a writer. A writer? Oh, that's very nice. You know, it's funny I used to wish I were a writer. I think I still do. There's so many things I could write about. Christine? Christine, I'll help you back to your room. No, no, it's quite all right. I can manage. Good day, Mr. Marshall. Good day, Mrs. Holliday. You must forgive some of the things she says, Mr. Marshall. She doesn't realize. Well, she didn't seem to say anything wrong. Yes? Well, nevertheless. No, about the house. The house? Oh, yes, the house. Well, I'll take it. Oh. Well, fine. I'll draw you up a check. And by the way, I'll have to ask a favor of you. Certainly, what is it? I had a bit of car trouble down the road, and it doesn't seem to be any service stations out this way. I wonder if you'd mind driving me back into town. Oh, I'd like to, but I'm afraid I can't. We have a car on the estate. No? No, they're in storage. Oh, I see. Well, I hate to ask, but do you think you could put me up some place for the night? Oh, I'm afraid it's impossible. Oh, well, I'm sorry, then. Oh, that is, uh, I didn't quite mean it in the way I said. After all, we couldn't very well turn you out when you practically owned the house, could we? I don't know, could you? You'll find a guest room at the head of the stairs, Mr. Marshall. You're welcome to stay. Good evening. Good evening to you. Oh, good morning this holiday. Oh, good morning, Miss. Oh, I'm sorry. It's Marshall. Norman Marshall. Of course. Forgive me. That's one of my worst habits. I never can remember a name. Fine morning, isn't it? Yes, it's beautiful. I thought I'd take some roses for my room. Do you like roses, Mr. Marshall? Very much. I've signed it to myself. Martin used to like roses. Martin used to... Can I help you? No, no, thank you. I'm unfinished. I think I'll go in now. Oh, wait. This is holiday. What is it? I wanted to talk to you. There was something... Oh, I'm sorry. Lloyd says I'm not well enough to talk to anyone yet. Lloyd's my physician. Yes, I know. That's one of the things I wanted to ask you about. Look, couldn't we take a little stroll? Lloyd might not approve. He might say it's bad for... Oh, I'm sure it'll be all right. Well, all right then. We can walk in the garden if you like. It's a very attractive garden. I like the forest out there too. Seems to add something. Forest? I despise the forest. Oh. We were hunting. We were hunting. Lloyd said it was there in the clump of trees. It wasn't that I meant to. No, I didn't mean to. But it was with us and he kept barking. Well, look now, Mrs. Halliday, I wouldn't... I'm sorry, I can't hear you. I can hear you. I can hear you. I can hear you. I can hear you. I can hear you. Mrs. Halliday, don't run off. Mrs. Halliday. Mr. Marshall. Oh, Dr. Foster. Hello. Mr. Marshall, I've tried to show you every cut. And I'd appreciate it if you would at least grant me the same consideration. Something wrong? Mrs. Halliday and I have made arrangements to turn over the estate to you by the end of the week at the latest. Until then, I must ask you to leave. Well, pardon me for asking, but why the buns rush? If you mean the reason for my asking you to leave, I think that's pretty obvious. I've already explained to you that Mrs. Halliday is a very sick woman desperately in need of complete rest and relaxation. He doesn't seem so terribly ill. Confused, I believe, is a better word. I believe as a physician I'm better qualified to diagnose Mrs. Halliday's condition. It so happens that she is suffering from a rather complex neurosis brought about by the shock of her husband's death. I don't know what you were discussing with her in the garden this morning. However, I do know that since then she has suffered a complete relapse. Oh, well, I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't mean to upset her. It's my duty to see that you don't have another opportunity. Oh, Martin. Oh, Martin. Christine, stop it. Stop it, do you hear me? Go to sleep now. Just go to sleep. Cedar Grove, sanitarium. May I speak to Dr. Cameron, please? Hello. Oh, hello, Arthur. I'm sorry to bother you this time of night. Yes, I'm afraid it's happened. I'm bringing Mrs. Halliday to Cedar Grove tomorrow evening. You can expect us at six. Thank you, Arthur. I knew you would. Good night. What's there? What are you doing here? What's there? You wouldn't take her to Cedar Grove. I've just made the arrangement. But that's an asylum. We doctors prefer to call it a rest home. Good night, Mr. Marshall. In the best of definitions, the word asylum means a place of rest, of safety. But in the case of Mrs. Halliday, I can only wonder about Dr. Foster's definition of the word. He has made no outward move that could imply anything but the best of intentions. And yet, in the mind of Norman Marshall, and in that holiday house, there is a static something, a strange undercurrent, that can only result from some sort of an obsession. Such a parade of disturbing thoughts. Always the question like the beat of a pulse. Coming light of day, Norman Marshall watched Dr. Forrest drive away from the holiday house in a car that should not have been there. A car that was in storage. And again, thoughts raced through his mind. And he knew that somewhere within this house was the answer to some terrifying problem of obsession. Lloyd, I didn't sleep very well last night. I wish... Oh, Mr. Marshall. Mrs. Halliday. I'm not supposed to talk to you, Mr. Marshall. Lloyd said I'm not... I'll only take a moment of your time, Mrs. Halliday. There's something I'd like to ask you. There's nothing I can say to you. I'm not well. I wish you'd go. Who said you weren't well? Lloyd's trying to help me. You're not trying to help me at all. Mrs. Halliday, where did Dr. Foster get the car he drove away in this morning? Car? Lloyd has his own car. Did he have it on the estate? Did he have it the day before yesterday? Of course. He uses it to go into town for groceries and to get medicine for me. What medicine? These tablets here? Yes, they're sedatives. They're strange-looking sedatives. You mustn't take those. Why are you tasting them? They're for me. Lloyd gives them to me to quiet my nerves. Really? These are soda tablets, Mrs. Halliday. Why? I don't understand. Neither do I. But I believe I'm beginning to. What do you mean? Frankly, Mrs. Halliday, I'm inclined to think that your Dr. Foster is doing you considerably more harm than good. I wouldn't say that, Mr. Marshall. Foster. Oh, Lloyd, I was just... I believe that will be enough company for you this morning, Christine. You'd better go back to bed. Yes, Lloyd. As for you, Mr. Marshall, it appears to be getting quite a habit with us. Am I asking you to leave? Yes, as opposed to this. Get out, please. Foster, get out! What are you doing in here? And what are you doing with that gun? I've just been looking through Mr. Halliday's collection. He seems to have been quite a connoisseur of firearms. This is a fine gun here. Yes. Now will you be good enough to put it back where you got it? This wouldn't happen to be the gun that caused the accident, would it? I couldn't say. It has Mrs. Halliday's initials on it. Really? Surely. You should remember. My memory is excellent, Mr. Marshall. Thank you. And if it will help to satisfy your curiosity, yes, that was the gun used by Mrs. Halliday when the tragedy occurred. How interesting. Perhaps this will interest you more. Mrs. Halliday and I are leaving this afternoon. See the girl? Yes. And in regard to your purchase of the estate... What about it? I'm afraid I'm going to be rather tied up for the next few days. I doubt if I'll have the opportunity to draw you up a bill of sale, but I'd like to have your check back until we can work out the details. All right. Well, I'd better go along upstairs and get a few things together. I trust you've been able to have your car repaired. Yes, yes, I have. Oh, and I noticed this morning that you got yours out of store. Yes, yes, I'll have to drive Mrs. Halliday. Well, drop back after the weekend, Mr. Marshall. I believe we'll have the house in order for you then. Oh, and please don't forget to replace that gun before you leave. Good-bye, Foster. Mrs. Halliday. Who's there? It's I, Mr. Marshall. Open the door, please. But the high... It's very important. Please open the door. Quick. I can't, though. I'd locked it. I'll come around through the garden. Meet me at the window. All right. Can't you understand? I'm trying to help you. Cedar Grober's in the silent state. I'm not insane, am I? Oh, of course not. But he's a physician. He'll say things about you that, well, they'll be difficult to deny. Why would Lloyd want to do a thing like that to me? He's been so kind and understanding. Except... Except what? Well, some night he comes to my room and talks to me about Martin and the accident. I've asked him not to because I don't know. I just called pieces. But Lloyd says it does me good to hear about it, but eventually it will make me forget. Is that why you screamed last night? Did I scream? Oh, I didn't know. I never know anything after he's finished talking. He talks about the dog barking in the way Martin looked. And then I can hear the shots again. This is though I... The shots? Yes. There was more than one shot? Oh, please, I can't. This is holiday. This is holiday. How many shots were there? Two. You're certain of that? Yes, yes. You have more than one gun with your initials on it? No. Were you using that particular gun at the time? Yes, yes, I was. Why do you...? I was just looking at that gun. Only one barrel has been discharged. That was the shot I fired? You fired one shot, yet you heard two. Where was the other shot from? Oh, I don't know. Lloyd was standing... Lloyd. Where was he standing? Behind me, I think. How was your marksmanship, Mrs. Holliday? Well, I was just learning. It was my second time I... I see. May I use your telephone? Marshal, I thought you'd gone. Well, I was waiting for you. I wanted to talk to you. I'm sorry, I haven't time, Mrs. Holliday and I are late now. I see you've taken that gun down again. Will you kindly put it back? Not just yet. You know, I have a suspicion. Oh, it's only a suspicion, you understand? But this may not have been the gun after all that caused the untimely death of Mr. Holliday. Mr. Marshal, I'd like to stay and chat with you, but... And then again, there's the possibility that Mr. Holliday's untimely death wasn't untimely at all. That's very interesting, I'm sure. And now, Mr. Marshal, if you will forgive me, I'm afraid I must be... Only one barrel's been discharged from this gun. There's another shot left. You wouldn't happen by any chance to be threatening me, I might think. Dr. Foster, I believe you kill Martin Holliday. Well, of all the ridiculous... Mrs. Holliday tells me two shots were fired. She only fired one of the shots. Who fired the other? Mrs. Holliday is not responsible for what she did. Perhaps you might give her a soda tablet to help her remember. How did you? Perhaps you might reconstruct the accident for her every detail. Reminds her the way Martin Holliday looked after he was shot. Finally, Mr. Marshal, you don't think... I don't think anything, Foster. I'm going to leave that to the police. The police? They're on their way here now. Oh, I see. You've been quite thorough about this thing, haven't you? I hope so. Well, and as much as I'm being held captive, would it to meet with your approval if I smoked? Certainly. Thank you. Do you happen to have a match? Here you are. Thank you again. Tell me, Mr. Marshal, with your evidence, do you believe the police will be able to, um, convict me of murder? I think so. That's odd. So do I. You... You did kill Holliday? I'm afraid so. Why? It's rather a long story. Well, we... we have plenty of time. You know what? This house here, it was once mine. I built it. Every dollar I could get my hands on went into the building of it. The library, the collections, everything. I bought them. By the time it was finished, most of my money was gone, but I had what I wanted. Something I'd worked all my life for, the Foster house. It was mine. Every inch of it. The only thing I'd ever owned. In Holliday, he was in charge of a stock and bond company. We became great friends. I had a little money. The market was doing exceptionally well at the time. And he advised you to invest? Yes. I used my savings to buy some shares of stock at his suggestion. The stock failed. Martin assured me I'd be able to recover my losses if I bought on margin. I took his advice, borrowed on my house and everything in it, but to no avail, the stock was worthless. How did he come to buy the house? He took it in exchange for my debts. My house. I was penniless and it hadn't cost him a thing. He stole the house from me. That's why I killed him. Hey, here. What are you doing, Foster? Give me that gun. No, Marshal. Stand back. There's one more shot. Remember? Your cigarette. You've set fire to the great breeze with it. Yes. A moment to go. And you're going to give that fire a chance, Marshal. Do you hear? No. Let me put it out. Christian, stop it. You can't stop it. He loves you. I'd rather see my house burn to the ground and let anyone else have it. There it goes. Up in smoke. Yes, Norman. We were lucky to escape. What's that? It's just a scrap of paper. But an idea for a story. A holiday house by Norman Marshal. Oh, well. It couldn't have been a very happy story anyway. Is that what you want to write about? Something with happiness in it? Yes. Where will you go to find it? I knew a place once. Almost halfway around the world from where we are now. It's a beautiful place. The most beautiful life I've ever seen. I'd like to show it to you. Fire. Come, Christine. Please. Don't ever look back. Listening to obsession. Light facilities of the United States armed with forces radio and television service.